Numb
by HavasuWhiskey
Summary: There's more than one way to become numb. Sometimes it's an injury that damages nerves beyond repair. And sometimes it's someone who takes every emotion and feeling you ever had. M Rating for violence, language.
1. Chapter 1

A rusted heavy-duty chain pinched the tight-bronzed skin of muscular wrists, pulled securely until broad shoulders were pulled taut in the upward direction, the tendons burning as they strained to accommodate the unnatural position. Sweat slicked a naked torso, blood oozing from wounds that were hours old; precisely placed so that any movement would specifically keep them from closing for too long of a time. A sterile smell burned the nostrils of the dazed captive, the mixture of stale blood and hours old sweat forced the gag from his throat and his body wretched with a dry heave. His feet barely brushing the cold cement intended to increase the mental torture that he was simply that close to being able to do something about his situation. Taking a strangled breath, he raised his head between his confined biceps and struggled to open his eyelids; the blurry vision side effect of his concussion closing in and forcing him to strain to see his surroundings.

He could make out a burly figure standing at ease as if there was a military background; there were no windows, fluorescent lighting plaguing the room, a metal table sat roughly five feet to his right displaying blades of all lengths and styles. Squinting to examine which one had made the precise incisions along his back as if torturing himself with the discovery. Next to the wool blanket that was delicately set under the blades, was the matte finished jagged-edged pipe. Sore, and swollen muscles flinched at every memory of its actions. The way the rusted spiked ends dug into the pliant flesh tugged tight around hip bones and diced through muscle in a broad chest. His whole body went rigged as his bones rattled at the ghost feeling of the middle of the pipe connecting with his joints. First it was the outside of his pelvis, right where the femoral head of his femurs tucked into the acetabulum, then it was the outside of his right knee. He had yelled so loud the cords in his neck distended, his voice breaking. It had satisfied the sick prick so fully that he hadn't even touched his left knee. The searing pain in his knee had since subsided, but the constant throb was a gentle reminder that if he did get down from the God forsaken chain, he wouldn't be able to bear any weight on it. Any attempt at defending himself would be half-hearted and slow. He was fatigued beyond belief, starved of water and food, trauma to his skeletal structure and flesh that made him blind with pain. _I am useless in saving myself._

A groan rumbled through his chest as his shoulders lifted to better accommodate the rising of his head. Squinting and wincing as the irritated flesh pulled apart once more, he used tactile fingers to work the bolt holding the chain just a tad more. He could feel it loosening, and hoped that he would be able to get up before the burly figure from the door got to him. The task was quick, excruciating; but complete. The ping of the bolt hitting the concrete stung his ears and his arms barely made it in front of him in time. Just when he looked up, a new sense of energy rolled through him; the discomfort in his joints and the throbbing of muscle no longer phased him. He was on his feet, shoulders dropped, calloused hand grasping the pipe with enough time to get a full swing in. He heard the bone crack, possibly in the same place where he had heard his own just hours ago. _Or was it days?_ He moved as quick as he could, grabbing a handful of blades in a blur and limped his way to the steel door. Wrenching it open before he felt arms wrap around his middle and squeeze. The air rushed from his chest cavity and that searing pain flooded him once more. A yell bellowed from his throat, a shaky hand coming down until sharpened rusty metal dug into flesh. The hilt lay flush against the torn skin and with a flick, he twisted the blade and yanked up. His attacker let him go and he ran out the door down a dingy hallway, hobbled up three flights of stairs, an alarm ringing in his ears, his heart thumping against fractured ribs. Lungs strained to keep the air in, he was getting dizzy, could feel the wounds on his back fully open and no longer slowly leeking blood. No, it was pulsing from the irritated torn flesh, slicking bruised skin as it mixed with anxious sweat. The light stung his eyes, the scream of a woman made him wince and place his hands to his ears. His eyes shut tightly, he dropped to the ground, his head pounding.

" _Are you okay?"_

" _Who did this to you?"_

" _What's your name?"_

" _Hold on man, we're getting you some help."_

" _Someone call 9-11! This man needs help!"_

" _Hang in there honey, we're right here with you."_

The different voices echoed and their faces were a blur, but it was daylight, and he was on the street. _Bleeding. You're bleeding. You need to get up, keep moving. They could be behind you. Keep moving._ But every time he tried something pulled him back down. He was curled on his side, something soft pressed to his back and he knew they were trying to stop the bleeding. He lost track of how much he'd lost hours ago, hoping it wasn't enough to kill him, but if it did, well then it did. His hands still clutched the blades, and he could feel cold thin fingers trying to pry his open, a muffled growl had those cold fingers retracting and he wished they would come back. _So soothing._ But sirens raked through the air and pierced his ears until he screamed in pain. His head curling to his chest, hands once again moving to cover his ears. He could still hear them, it still hurt, but under the sirens there was a soft voice. Feminine and comforting, the cold touch was back but this time it touched his shoulder. Whoever was part of that cold touch was curled up behind him; _holding me. Yes, hold me please._

He felt himself being hoisted into the air, heard a firm authoritative voice next to his ear, but couldn't comprehend what it was saying. There was a prick to his left arm, then another one, then another, and it stopped there. It was a rush of coolness that raced through him, his legs began to feel heavy. _Morphine. Someone is giving me fluids. I can taste the metal. Or is that blood in my mouth?_ He had tried to sit up but there was a strap or a rope across his chest and it chaffed the already raw skin making him shift even more, but to get away from it. Then it was there again. The cool touch to his shoulder and the feminine voice in his ear.

" _Stop moving. If you sit still they'll remove the straps. Just relax, you're safe now."_

There was movement in his jeans; _someone has their hand in my pocket. There's no id, stop please. God that fuckin hurts!_ He wanted to scream, but instead his arms flexed once more against the restraints and his chest pressed up against the strap. _Let me go! Just let me go, I have to get to the office. Fuck please stop!_

The hand continued to rifle through his jeans cutting away the fabric in a haste and he heard the gasps, he hadn't thought to take a look at his injuries. Trained otherwise to never look, he hadn't known the full extent. Just had pinched his eyes closed and did his best to escape. The firm authoritative voice was back against his ear, but it whispered gentleness and he relaxed.

" _I'm going to give you some more morphine okay? You're going to fall asleep, it's just to make you more comfortable."_

But he didn't fall asleep, he just felt heavier, like an elephant was sitting on his chest. He couldn't see through the blurry vision, but he could hear them talking. Their voices like an echo in a church hall.

" _Who could do this to another person?"_

" _I don't know, but whoever did was trying to make a point. Lets take him to County. They're a trauma one. He's gonna need the expertise."_

" _What about his back? What would cause those?"_

" _Not sure, most likely one of the knives he was holding. Although none of them were serrated. I can't sew those up, the bus is too bumpy. They're gonna have to cut away the jagged skin. Some of it looks like it's died already."_

" _How much pain do you think he's in?"_

" _A whole helluva lot. I don't even know how he's stayed conscious this whole time. I gave him a pretty hefty dose of morphine."_

" _Did you find an id?"_

" _No. Someone didn't want him known, let alone found. Have you called the station? Given any report?"_

" _Yes, but just a brief one. Do you think anyone was looking for him?"_

" _I hope so. Poor guy must have gone through hell and back. I'd really hope someone was looking for him. No one should have to go through this."_

" _What do you think they'll do to him?"_

" _The doctors?"_

" _Yeah."_

" _Not sure. I'm just a medic. He'll need a lot of stitches, but they might take him to the OR as a precaution."_

" _Why? There's no bullet holes."_

" _You're so naïve yet. He's most likely a torture victim based on the amount of cuts and their placement. With torture victims, sometimes they stick things in their wounds. Gravel, glass. I remember when I was over seas we recovered some of our guys who had had their dog tags placed inside their wounds. Usually over an artery so if it were to be removed it could kill them if they ever escaped. That's why they'll take him to the OR. They'll be looking for anything placed inside him."_

" _That's terrible."_

" _Yes, it is."_

" _He looks so kind. So peaceful."_

" _Hannah, look at me. He's a patient, you cannot become attached. He's nameless to us understand? We pick him up, we treat him to the best of our abilities and he's gone. Do not think about who he was or is. You hear me?"_

" _You're so insensitive."_

" _No, I'm not. I'm helping you. This job will eat you from the inside out if you let it. And one of the ways of letting it, is doing what you're doing. Getting close. Keep him a stranger Hannah and you'll be fine in this career."_

That was the last he heard; he felt the coolness return to his shoulder, something soft brushing his chest and then something being poured before the softness returned once more. They were cleaning him. He wondered if his back had stopped bleeding, he could feel the throbbing still but the sting was gone. He was nearly numb which meant the loss of blood was taking its toll on his body. When he tried to open his eyes, he saw a gentle smile, and blonde hair.

" _Sleep sir. It'll make you feel better. We're almost to the hospital."_

With that he released the groan and breath he was holding and let the medication pull him under until there was nothing but black.


	2. Chapter 2

Her heart was erratically beating in her chest; if she didn't know better she'd think that ribs four and five were on the verge of fracturing. _They found him. Someone found him._ Red-rimmed eyes were unsuccessfully hidden by light make-up and her cheeks rosy and stained. A warm cloth in the bathroom pressed against the flush skin gave her hope that it wouldn't be noticeable how affected she was. Angela had called her frantic and hysterical, nearly screaming into the phone incoherent words that left her frustrated. The lack of sleep making her irritable and short tempered that she considered hanging up on the sweet artist. _I just need sleep. But he needs me more. What if he sends me away? He was so angry._ Auburn trusses fell in front of a square jaw that trembled with new emotion as she grabbed her keys and desperately tried to push the doubt away. _He wouldn't. He cares. We're partners._

Driving recklessly, weaving in and out of lanes to get that extra second in time, every ambulance and cop car that passed her with their sirens going made her heart drop into the pits of her stomach. _He's already there, safe. Secure in a room and safe. Sterilized and treated. Safe._ It was a mantra, one she'd repeated only once before in her head regarding him. But the other time, he hadn't been safe. That she knew of. Then no one had told her the truth. They had lied to her, kept a dirty little secret all for the sake of protocol. A surge of anger rushed through her and the gas pedal urged closer to the floorboard. _They won't lie this time. Not after what happened._ Tires screeched as they yanked into a parking space, the gears grinding as they were forced from drive to park. Yanking the keys from the ignition, she nearly fell to the pavement yanking herself from the electric vehicle. Booted legs moved faster than they had in years, lungs heaving as if they were well out of shape, arms pumping by her sides trying to move her more quickly down the sterile white halls. Blue eyes searched and strained, looking at every folder at every door, scanning every nurse until one grasped her arm in a vice.

"Ma'am? I'm sorry but you can't go through those doors. That's the OR. If you'd like I can try to find who you're looking for and point you in the right direction or give you an update."

Dark, watery eyes stared down at the medical professional; purple scrubs with white stitching indicating she was of the Trauma section of the hospital. Her black hair was neatly pulled back in a military regulated bun, light lipstick and eye make up helped hide the dark circles under her eyes and a soft smile to deter the stress and anxiety of those who came in contact with her. She could appreciate the effort of the young nurse but she was too anxious to be stopped. Gently tugging her arm free, she smoothed her shirt and tried her hand at composure.

"I um…I'm looking for Special Agent Seeley Booth. I don't know the extent of his injuries, but I know paramedics admitted him an hour ago. I need to see him."

"Okay, well let's start with some brief questions. Do you know if he was a trauma victim?"

 _Victim. Booth is no victim. He's a soldier, an FBI agent. He'd have your job if he heard you call him a victim._

"I, I don't know. I just know he was brought here. This is County is it not? Angela has all the information, I, I don't know anything other than he was brought here. Please, I need to find him."

 _How did Angela get all this information? Did he ask for her instead? Maybe he really did put me on the reject list._ Shifting uncomfortably and wringing her hands nervously and adverting the young nurses gaze.

"Well, I'll check the folders at the front desk to see if we've had anyone by that name come in and we'll go from there. In the meantime can you give me a brief description of what he looks like? His age?"

A frown creased her brow and her cheeks heated without reason. But she spoke slow and gave the nurse the best description she could as she watched her go through a stack of manila folders.

"He's 70 inches tall, that's six foot even; approximately 88.45 kilograms, and again that's roughly 195 pounds. Brown hair, brown eyes, even muscle tone throughout his shoulders. I…I don't know what else would be helpful. He's 37 years of age."

"That's very good ma'am. Unfortunately we don't have anyone by his name that was admitted in the last hour but it looks like there was a John Doe in critical condition admitted into the OR around that time that matches your description. Unfortunately, without his consent I cannot release what floor he's on or any other information about him to you. I'd be happy to check his status and pay him a visit to gather his consent for you. If there is any ma'am, I apologize but I don't want to get your hopes up if he for some reason rejects the consent. I'm not saying the John will, but it is a possibility that I want to be up front about."

Staring blankly at the young nurse, her entire body tensed and a terrifying shiver raced through her spine. It gripped her heart and twisted it in a vice-like grip with the thought that he would reject her. _I was very cruel to him. He'd have every right._ Nodding her head carefully and not saying another word she moved over to the waiting area and took a seat. Her gaze shifted around the room, troubled, doubt-filled mind racing through every possibility of his condition, of how Angela knew so much, if she was here already. A gentle familiar buzz drew her from the reverie and shaky fingers unlocked the touch screen.

"Sweetie! Bren, where are you? I'm sitting in this stupid waiting room, and they won't tell me anything and they're threatening to kick us out. I swear I'm fixing to jump of that counter myself and—"

"Angela, I'm up on the OR floor in the waiting area. I believe it's floor four. They won't tell me anything, but the nurse is being helpful searching for him. He must not have had his id on him because they don't have him listed by name. There's a John Doe matching his description so she's searching for him. They can't tell me anything legally without his consent. Just come to the OR floor."

The exasperated sigh on the other end had her pulling the phone from her ear and hanging up. The elevator chimed just moments later making her feel like the hospital wasn't as busy as it looked. The artist was grief stricken without knowing any details, her cheeks stained with salty tears, eyes bloodshot and puffy, her hair in a disheveled mess on top of her head as if she'd just woken up even though it was only 7 p.m. Long lanky arms drew her up into a hug that squeezed the air from her lungs and had her fighting to pull away. _I know nothing._ Brown eyes searched her and turned skeptical in a flash.

"They haven't found him."

"Ange, I just explained this to you not long ago."

"Bren, he has to be okay."

"I'm sure he is. Booth is a very tough man."

"Uhm, excuse me miss? You were looking for someone?"

Brennan turned on her heel with the gracefulness of a ballet dancer. Eyes eager and ears ready for information. Anything they could absorb to comfort the irritation and anxiety that was consuming her. Angela had grasped onto her arm, linking theirs together and squeezing uncomfortably tight.

"Yes. Special Agent Seeley Booth. Have you found him?"

The desperation in her voice made her cringe and she visibly flinched. Angela squeezed tighter, her mouth moving as if she wanted to say something but no words made their way out.

"I uhm…Well ma'am like I said earlier there was the possibility of him you know…Look maybe you should sit down."

"I am more comfortable standing, I assure you. Did you find Booth?"

The way the nurses brown eyes worried and searched the floor made her knees tremble more, decreasing the sure stability of holding her up.

"Okay, well then yes. I did find the man that you described, and the doctor on staff was able to encourage his name from him. He was able to confirm that the man you described is Mr. Booth. However, He has asked for a woman named Angela, and unless that is one of the two of you, I can't let either of you use him. Unless of course there's proof that you are related or married. I'm very sorry. If you could provide some id—"

"No need. She's Angela. I'm Dr. Brennan. Take her back to go see him if he wants visitors."

"No! No Brennan that is not right. I'm sorry miss nurse lady, but you must have heard wrong. He would never request to see me. I mean, the G-man and I are good friends but…Brennan is his partner. He asked for her."

"I'm afraid you're wrong Ms. Angela. He asked in a clear coherent tone for you. I apologize. Obviously you're not obligated to see him, but this is his room number if you decide otherwise. If you choose to see him, please be mindful of his condition. He's fatigued from the pain meds and the anesthesia so tread lightly with your questions. Maybe just sit next to him and be soothing."

"Soothing? I'll give him soothing all right I'll rip th—"

"Angela. Stop. I expected this. Booth and I were not on very good terms before his…disappearance. So I understand. He has every right to deny my visit. Just go see him. Make sure he's okay for me."

A brief smile was unconvincing to the artist but she offered a reassuring smile herself before stroking a perfectly manicured hand over her arm and kissing her friends cheek.

"Okay, Bren. I will. But I swear, his mind will change. Even if I have to…"

A brief glance at the nurse had her rethinking her choice of words and instead hugging her friend tight whispering words of encouragement into her ear before pulling back and steeling herself to be directed to the agents room. Brennan just watched the two walk down the sterile hallway, the fluorescent lighting blinding her for the first time. _I knew this would happen. But it doesn't take away the sting. Please change your mind Booth._

The nurse left her at the wooden door with a brief sideways smile and a careful comforting hand on her shoulder. A set of instructions on how to behave and what button to press in case she felt something was wrong. Her nerves were scratching at her skin as she reached for the steal handle. The door moved with ease, the beeping filling her ears and encouraging her anxiety. She could feel her palms beginning to sweat as they shook at her sides. Urging herself to maintain a bit of composure, she carefully shut the door and turned to face the bed. A short gasp sucked into her chest and a hand lifted to her mouth. The wires, the machines, the tubes, the gauze that was already beginning to soak through with dark fluid. Shaky legs carried her to the side of the hospital bed where she pulled a chair up and eased herself down. Releasing an unsteady breath she observed the FBI agent. Nothing could explain how she felt, there was rage that he didn't ask for Brennan, fear that he looked like he was on the edge of death. His normally handsome tanned face was pale and leaking sweat along his pronounced brow. Worry encased her and her hand reached out to grab his, a gentle squeeze that brought a flutter from his eyelids.

"Angela. Good to see you."

"Yeah, me too G-man. I know it's a stupid question, but—"

"Like I've been tortured. How long?"

"No, no. I will not answer these questions."

His face scrunched with pain and confusion, and she caught the flash of defiant anger in his washed out brown eyes but it was gone just as quick as it appeared.

"Angela, how long."

"No Booth! I shouldn't be here! Brennan should be. She's your partner! Do you know what this is doing to her?"

He didn't even look at her, just stared up at the ceiling, pulling his hand from her grasp his body going tense. The heart monitor escalated slightly and she could see his face scrunching with frustration.

"Booth, whatever was said, whatever happened, is water under the bridge. She has worked day and night to find you. I had to stay at the lab last night with her to make sure she got just an hour of sleep. Don't do this to her. Let her see you."

"Why? So she can continue to tell me how incompetent I am? How wrong I was to do what I did? Fuck that Angela; I don't need to hear her bullshit. She has no fucking idea. Ungrateful and refusing to understand."

"I don't know what you're talking about Booth…I'm sorry but please elaborate."

He rolled his eyes and with a grimace pushed himself up higher in the bed. With an annoyance she was all too familiar with he pulled and rearranged the tubing's and cords that surrounded him. A heavy strangled sigh left his lips and he glanced down at his bruised and irritated hands.

"A few months ago, that gang that put a hit out on Bones? I uh…I told her I got caught up with something and it wasn't a lie but…"

"You didn't tell her the whole truth thus lying by omission."

"Funny. That's exactly what she said."

"I know her very well G-man. But, go on."

"She found out that I threatened Ramon. She wanted to know what I said, what I did and why. Then she gave me a lecture on how well she can take care of herself and this bull shit about being an alpha male that I had no right and I over stepped a line. She said I wasn't her keeper; she didn't belong to anyone or me. I tried to explain to her that I was just protecting her and without me she'd probably be looking over her shoulder every day if not dead. She called me a 'pompous asshole with no sense of boundaries.' Said she, 'didn't need protecting, she was a big girl that could handle her own issues.' You know, I have lied for this woman, I've taken a bullet for this woman, and now I've been tortured for her and she's still ungrateful. Like it's all about me. It has nothing to do with me, I care about her, I…Fuck I just didn't want her to get hurt or worse. Ange, look at what they did to me. This could have easily happened to her if I hadn't stepped in. She could have been dead. She can't hold her own against a fucking gang. Especially that one. I mean fuck look at me! I'm a trained Army Ranger and even I doubted making it through. I've been tortured before Angela. This was worse than what I suffered overseas. I just wanted to protect her and she threw it in my fucking face like it was about me. Like I was being selfish. SO no, I don't want to see her ungrateful ass. As far as I'm concerned, this is her fucking fault."

With that, he finally met her eyes, his breath heaving in and out of his chest leaving a wince in its wake. The brunette just stared at him shocked and completely still. Her mouth hung open in disbelief, her hands neatly folded in her lap, and her knee bouncing anxiously. She looked afraid, hurt, and sad. He wanted to soothe her but his temper was building the more he discussed the situation, so he sat back and just stared at her waiting for her to catch up.

"Booth I…I had no idea."

"Because I never told anyone. She was approached by one of the members on one of her stupid night outs. The guy had told her if it weren't for me she'd be a used up whore at the bottom of the river with concrete chained to her ankles. That he had specific orders not to touch her. She slapped me Angela. Fucking slapped me for keeping her alive."

"Why did they come after you?"

He shifted uncomfortably then. His eyes quickly moving away from hers and his finger playing with the IV in his left arm.

"Booth. Why did they come after you?"

"They put a hit on me. Bones had no idea, but I knew they were coming. A buddy n narc told me bout it. Said the whole gang in every charter was looking for me. I thought I'd prepared, but I guess not well enough. They told me that just before they were done with me they'd make me watch everything they'd do to her. They're going to come for her Angela. But I'm not…I won't…"

"Don't you fucking say it. You will, and I'll be damned if I don't make you. You will guard her with your fucking life Booth. I swear to God, if anything bad happens to her—"

"Then it will be her own fucking fault Angela. She made it very clear she can handle herself. She doesn't want my help, and she never will. So no, I won't fucking protect her anymore. I'm tired of being punished for being a good guy. She's on her fucking own."

"You're unbelievable. You should be ashamed of yourself."

"I should be ashamed?!"

His voice rose and the effort made his chest clench in pain resulting in the growl that erupted from his throat. His face scrunched in indescribable pain as his right hand clenched over the gauze, lips muttering curse words and vile promises of damage.

"Fuck…Look if Bones wants my help she can come to me. I can tell you right now, she won't. She's too proud."

"Yeah and right now, she's terrified Booth. She hasn't slept let alone ate a decent meal in four days. Ever since she found out you were missing she's been a mess. I know she's…Stubborn and different but that's what makes her Brennan. She needs you regardless of how prideful she can be. And you need her. Don't do this to her. You should have seen her face when that nurse told her you rejected her visit. Devastated Booth. She knows what she did was wrong, and I knew before even knowing. If that makes sense. The point is, you two need each other. Would you really be able to live with yourself if something happened to her and you did nothing to stop it?"

"No. I wouldn't. I'm just angry and—"

"Hurt. I know. I have been down that road a time or two with her. She'll come around and see the mistakes in her actions and though it may not be a traditional apology, it'll still be one."

Her hand reached out and gingerly cupped his, with a gentle squeeze and a soft expression she leaned forward just a tad to place a chaste kiss to his cheek.

"You'll do the right thing Booth. I know you will."

"Yeah. Sometimes I wish you were wrong."

"Yeah, funny thing Hodgin's wishes the same thing. Do you want me to send her in now?"

He stiffened, and the gentleness of her smile eased him. Giving her a soft smile of his own he squeezed her hand back comfortingly.

"Yeah, I guess you could. Disarm first if you would. Maybe play it up a bit so she doesn't slap me."

His smile had her giggling as she rose to her feet and he watched the roll of her eyes before she turned on her heel and waltzed out of his room. It wasn't long before he caught the auburn locks through the cheap blinds. She was unnerved, and barely holding it together, stopping just in front of his door looking down as if she wasn't ready. _Just come in. I'm okay. Just walk in._ And as if it was a command she heard, the door opened and her normally perfect, clear eyes welled with salty tears and the plump bottom lip quivered as a gentle sob lifted its way out of her chest. If the searing discomfort in his chest were absent, he would have leapt off the bed and caught her before she hit her knees. _Get up. Stop. Look at me I'm okay. Look at me._ But she wouldn't. The door shut behind her with a click, but it went unnoticed by her. Her back heaving with every sob, nimble hands cradling her face, hiding from him. His heart tugged and he desperately wanted to get out of the god-forsaken bed and take her in his arms. Comfort her even if he didn't agree she deserved it. Just when his leg grudgingly swung off the edge of the bed, she rose to stand on shaky legs and leaned back against the door. Just staring at him with doe-like eyes that darted over his body showing concern and regret. He couldn't bring himself to say anything, just watch her and wait. When she found the courage to speak, it was simple and breathy. Gagged and choked on as tears forced their way back out.

"Booth."


	3. Chapter 3

There was enough blood on the steel diamond plated floor that one would think someone was drained of life. _He might as well have been_. The smell of bleach stung her nostrils and her elbows ached from the constant scrubbing. They had used the fire hose to wash most of it out but even then, there were stains and splatters that painted a picture she wished she could forget. _He looked so lost. Don't get attached. Treat and release._ But the scrape of firm bristles along the metal and the snapping of gloves as she changed them had her wishing she were elsewhere. _Next to him. No id, alone in a hospital and disoriented._ The slamming of the garage door snapped her attention back from her thoughts and she stood at attention.

"At ease, it's just me. How's it going?"

Curious blue eyes searched over her slim shoulder and a grim expression danced over a set in stone handsome face. Brown met blue and instantly there were words exchanged. Ducking her head with embarrassment she let his sigh roll over her, feeling it hit her cheek. She wanted to completely turn away from him, execute a half pivot and kneel down back to scrubbing. But his warmth soothed her and her prodding thoughts so she stayed standing in front of him with slumped shoulders. When he spoke, his words danced over her skin making her shiver and wish she wasn't so vulnerable.

"I know it's hard Hannah. I've been there many times over. I'm telling you, it will drive you past crazy."

She could barely speak above a whisper, but when she did her throat burned and she choked on the emotion there. Her blue eyes swimming in tears that she were ashamed of. Never once in the 5 years she'd worked as a paramedic had she ever been so uncontrollably emotional. Clearing her throat, she did her best to straighten her spine and square her shoulders.

"I know. I know. I'm fine, really. I just, need some time I suppose. There's not much left to do and we can radio back in service. I'd like to grab something to eat first though, I haven't eaten all day. Would you mind finishing up? I'll grab supplies to replenish the stock once I finish eating."

Her partner's expression was grim, eyes full of understanding. She was guarding and trying to prove to him something he didn't need to witness. _I'm not weak. I will forget about this patient. I'm strong enough for this job._

"That sounds good to me punk. Don't forget to change into some new uni's. Yours are a tad disheveled."

Looking down she observed and counted every drop of blood, every pool that wouldn't lift. _Another pair for the trash._ A nimble hand smoothed her uniform shirt before tugging at the buttons and peeling it away. Bare shoulders exposed and a thin white tank top tucked neatly into tactical pants, she could only imagine what she really looked like. _A mess. A sweaty, bloody, mess._ Pivoting on her right combat boot heel she strolled into the firehouse and climbed the stairs grudgingly to her en-suite where she neatly lay the long sleeve button down over the edge of her hamper. Moving like a ghost into her bathroom, she just stared at herself in the wide mirror. The lighting was horrible, harsh yet bright. Her face pale against a tanned neck and shoulders, eyes dull as if the life had been drained from them in mere hours. The once tight bun that held pristine blonde hair now barely held it in place. Strands poking out, falling in front of her face and down the backs of her shoulders. She looked like death danced on her. _No, he looked like death. His tan_ was _a stark contrast to his paled face, completely masking handsome features. His eyes were lost and cloudy. Playing tug of war with light and dark. Death and done more than just dance on top of him. I'm just the tip of the iceberg if anything._ A deep strangled sigh slumped her shoulders and rattled her spine. Undressing herself carefully, a biohazard been at her side she dumped all her clothing inside and sealed it before setting it just outside her door. _One of the Probees will take care of it. I'll never have to look at it again._ Shaky hands turned a creaky knob until icy water shot out of the head of a spout. Cranking the knob hard to the left she watched as steam slowly encased the small bathroom. When it pelted her back and shoulders, her head rolled from side to side letting it naturally release the knots she felt there earlier.

When she got out, her back was less stiff than it had ben at the start of the day, her skin blushed red from the heat of the water and her fingers pruned. But she felt better, refreshed from the fruity shampoo and body wash. However, her eyes still bore that same dull look. Brown no longer a chocolaty mess that stirred lust in men, but now a dull shade that looked like cheap and worn leather. Dismissing the negative image, she went through her nightly motions. Teeth brushing, hair brushing and braiding, slipping into pajama shorts and sports bra, ironing her uniform for the next days work and slinking into bed with a groan and a sigh of exhaustion. But she didn't fall asleep like she normally would. There were no eyelids drifting closed in minutes, no sinking into the mattress in a cocoon of comforter blankets. This time it was tossing and turning, a ghost like face dancing behind her eyes every time they shut and strangled moans of pleas for help to make it stop echoing in her ears. _He's haunting me._

 _BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBB_

The way his name rolled from her trembling swollen lips brought a new kind of pain rushing into his chest and he felt his eyes water. The anger dissipated and love replaced it. She was genuinely disturbed and worried for him. Her emotion was raw and he could see it had taken its toll on her. Crushing her and smothering her under its weight until she could no longer breathe. _I've been there._ His brian rattled off numerous things to say to her, but his mouth didn't cooperate, staying shut and pursed tight. Even when she stepped to the end of his bed and gripped the footboard. She never met his eyes, just looked over his body staring too long at the stained gauze that could use replacing. When her hands lifted the blanket he noticed how hard she gripped it, her knuckles white with flexion, lips trembling again as she examined his legs. He still didn't know what they looked like but he could feel the throbbing and he could wiggle his toes and that meant something. _Something good out of all the bad._ He let her stare, observe, and calculate. But when pale fingers moved to touch his skin he flinched and pulled his leg away from her, catching a stunned and scared glance from her. He had nothing to say to help explain his action, just a simple blank stare as he watched her move to the side of the bed and ease down into the chair that was occupied just minutes ago by her best friend.

Minutes passed as they just stared at each other, neither knowing what to say and even if the other did know, it was left unsaid and floating in their mind. Until the other was brave enough and forcefully grasped the others hand. Squeezing and pressing against the radial pulse as if reassuring they were alive. Then blue met brown and numerous emotions flickered between the two and gentle smiles were creasing pursed lips.

"I'm okay."

It was simple and short but it said everything she needed. Somehow seeing him, hearing the monitors beep with his life just wasn't proof enough. His voice was gravelly and rough and her eyes darted around for a cup out of habit.

"I'm not thirsty. Just exhausted."

She pulled the blanket back over his legs her eyes closing with disgust. She refused to look at him again so he pulled his hand from hers and adjusted himself in the same manner he had when Angela had been sitting next to him.

"How long was I gone? It felt like days but it could have only been hou—"

"Four days. You were gone for four days and 12 hours. It was nearly a fifth day when you were found."

She spoke timidly as if she was being judged by him. As if his question had dug a knife into her and twisted. _Twist. Pull. Run._ He winced and did his best to forget. Staring down at her and trying to fins solace in her eyes. But there was nothing but pain and shyness.

"I'm okay Bones. You don't have to be scared anymore."

"The injuries to your femur suggest a cylindrical instrument was us—"

"I was there. Don't do this to yourself. Or to me Bones. Neither of us deserve it let alone need it."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why'd they do this to you and why didn't I know about it? I thought you had just used some of your vacation time and then that man from Narcotics came to the lab and was asking questions about your location and your last whereabouts who you spoke to last and I knew something happened. I know who did this Booth, they engraved their signature into the inside of your calf muscle. But I don't know why. I need to know why."

Shifting to become more comfortable, he tried to think back at why he had missed that particular part of his torture. He didn't think they had gone below the knees it was too risky for them. He must have dozed in some form and slept through the etching. His shoulders heaved with too much effort in a shrug and he avoided her gaze.

"You don't need to know why because I'm a big boy and can take care of myself. I'll be fine. And Bones, you really didn't have to come. I uh, I'm fine."

It was a half assed diversion that he knew would hurt her enough to make her retreat. But the satisfaction of his success didn't course through him like he thought it would. Instead it crawled through his skin and made him itch, his brow furrowing and his head starting to pound.

"Okay. Do you want me to stay though? I'll stay Booth."

"No. Go home and sleep. Like I said, I'll be fine."

The screeching of the chair against the tile was enough to make him scream but he clenched the bed sheets and just stared down at himself. _I need to get out of here._ He watched her go in silence and a part of him hoped she'd look back through his small blind covered window, but she didn't. She just sulked out of view and his head hit the pillow with a soft thud. _Fuck me. I can't fucking do this to her but I don't know what else to fucking say. Fuck this. I'm fucking leaving. Oh God, fuck fuck fuck that fucking hurts. Excuse me Lord but God fucking damnit. If only I could just…Ah there we go. Sweet peace. And we have movement._

He was in the bathroom in five minutes, examining himself in the mirror. The quick assessment had him grimacing, but he used the restroom, splashed cold water on his face and found the tattered jeans he came in with in a plastic bag in the corner of the room. Carefully yet clumsily he tugged the denim on grunting with frustration at the destruction of them. None of the buttons were usable, the knees were torn, and blood spattered across the thighs. He searched the cabinets for something to wear as a shirt but found nothing. _Shirtless it is. Because of course escaping the hospital isn't ever easy._ One last look in the mirror told him he looked like a trainwreck. Heavy, nearly blood soaked gauze encased his entire torso making him look like a French fashion statement. His hair was a disheveled mess of sweat and blood, his eyes dilated from heavy pain medication, face pale and bruised, swollen in some areas. He didn't dare try to turn and look at his back, just made way for the door and peeked out. The nurses station only housed one nurse, the one he had seen bring Angela to the room, she seemed nice enough and he wondered how much charm it'd take to woo her into letting him leave. Steeling himself he stepped out of the room, thankful that she didn't even look up. But without chancing it, he just sauntered up the best he could to the fermica counter top and leaned on it with a gentle wince.

"Hey there. Sorry to bother you but I'd like to check myself out."

She had jumped at the first sound of his voice and recoiled when she met his eyes. _I know, I look like death walked over. Lets get passed that and get me checked out._

"I uh…Sir you're under some pretty heavy narcotics. I can't let you check yourself out. You wouldn't be considered competent and I could lose my job."

"What if I told you I pulled that morphine drip out nearly an hour ago? I can assure you I'm fine ma'am. The paperwork please."

"Even if you did try telling me that, your pupils are still well over the dilation mark that would state your competency. You're stoned because it's too painful to move. So no, there will be no paperwork."

"Listen, I'm an FBI Agent and I have a lot of work to do. Such as finding who did this to me and getting justice. I'd really like to go home and lay in a bed that accommodates my injuries a bit better and where I'm familiar. Please. Give me the paperwork."

"I don't care if you're Ghandi. There will be no paperwork given to you. So march your little butt back into your room and stay there until the morphine wears off and then we'll talk about a discharge form."

Her smile was irritating and condescending. His heart jumped into his throat as adrenaline filled him. He could easily over power her, get by her with the amount of morphine that was in his system. A gentle smirk and he pushed back from the counter.

"What if I were to leave with out a discharge?" 

"Nothing. We'd file a complaint, make sure you didn't take anything that was hospital property and move on. If we were concerned for the safety of others we'd ask the police to put a BOLO out for you. But inherently, nothing would happen legally to you."

"Well then. I suppose I have my answer. You have a splendid night."

With that, he was moving down the hall. He didn't chance a look back over his shoulder, not like he could anyway. He just kept his legs moving until he reached the elevator and then out the lobby. By the time he met the parking lot, there were distant sirens and the parking lot was nearly empty. But the rustling of boots on asphalt had him making a too fast pivot to find the source. His eyes bulged with discomfort and shock. His hands beginning to shake, and it was almost as if the morphine was flushed from his system because the pain from every cut had returned as he stared.

"I knew you'd try to leave."


	4. Chapter 4

Squaring his shoulders the best that he could, his spine straightening to the best of it's ability, and boots digging into the pavement for better balance. His eyes observed the person in front of him; his chest tightening with every recognizable curve and article of clothing. He wanted to yell, wanted to skulk back into the hospital and tell the charge nurse to put a 'No Visitors' sign on his door. Making himself safe from those scrutinizing blue eyes and from the condescending tone then. Arms were crossed over her chest, legs shoulder width apart like she was ready for a brawl. Her eyes were boring into his skin, making him itch.

"I asked you to leave. To go home and sleep."

"I couldn't, knowing that you would try to leave. Especially in the considerably unhealthy condition you are in. I understand that we aren't exactly on level ground, but you're still my partner and if you're not going to let medical professionals help you, then…Let me."

Those doe-like eyes stared up at him with a compassion he hadn't yet seen. He could argue with her, say something harsh and nasty that would make her turn away from him. But that would only derail his plans. Going back into the hospital meant the same fate. He wouldn't be able to work from there; he needed Brennan. Though he didn't like using people for his own gain, it was his only choice. She was his ticket out of the hospital and into the field to work. A short grimace and a nod of his head he relaxed his features the best he could. Wondering if that appeased her the way it looked like it did on the outside.

"Fine. Okay, I'll uh, I'll go with you. But I don't want you waiting hand and foot on me. I can take care of this myself. It doesn't hurt that much."

"Judging by the dilation of your pupils, I'd suggest otherwise. You're high on Morphine or Phentanyol. I don't know how much the nurse gave you, but I'm assuming you rigged the IV to drip more than the prescribed amount so that you could manage your escape without hindrance from pain."

His body flinched at her observance. Frustration and discomfort coursed through him; the effects of the drugs wearing off at a slow rate; but fast enough to notice.

"Yeah…I suppose you're right. Again. What do ya say we get outta here now? I'm starting to feel a little fatigued."

She had strewn a blanket across the passenger seat for him so as not to get any of his blood on the leather. A part of that appeased him, knowing she had prepared to take him to her home and look after him. Then, a part of it made him boil with anger. She had defied his request. It was as if she could ignore him, completely disregard his words, but if he so much as tried with her, he was bound to face Hell. An argument ensuing in her favor, outsmarting him with pointless logic; or so it seemed to him. His tongue flicked with the urge to tell her off; say something mean like she would presumably do to him if given the chance. But he couldn't, not with the way her eyes had softened, or with how the tears stained her cheeks and the bags under her eyes seemed days old. It wouldn't be right of him to do such a thing to her. _But she deserves it. Deserves to know what it feels like to be completely undermined and made to feel useless. Like she doesn't matter._ Except she had already been made to feel that way when her father and mother left, when Russ left. They had already given her a lifetime dose of feeling useless and unwanted. So instead, he stayed quiet and chewed the inside of his cheek as a represent. When they pulled up to her building and she gracefully parked the electric vehicle that was too cramped for his broad frame; she had attempted to help him out and failed. Her hands slipping on his sweaty skin, even though she had had the AC on full blast. She was oggeling again, but this time with concern for his well being and he wanted to smack the look off her face. _Don't pity me._ With much scrunching and groaning and cursing, he managed to crawl his way out of the damned clown car and stand on wobbly legs on the curbside. Neither of them spoke a single word as they trudged up the steps to her apartment. Once inside, his eyes darted around curiously not looking for anything in particular. Except maybe signs of another guest. If maybe she'd been seeing someone or if anyone had been inside in general. But there was nothing. Nothing but her coats on the hanger, her shoes tucked in the cubby by her door, and her belongings splayed throughout the layout.

He jolted when he felt pressure on his sides, being quick to look down to find small thin hands grasping him. She was gently urging him down the hall to her bedroom where she silently shut the door behind her. Still, there were no words exchanged, and lack of eye contact had just been added to the mix as he stood awkwardly in the center of her room. She left him to stand there, dipping into what he assumed was her bathroom and began running water. The sound made him flinch. _You're accustomed to this sound aren't you? What about the feeling? You ever been boarded Agent? It's quite the experience. Lets try it shall we. No…No…_ The screech from the knob shutting the water brought him to a startling reality. He could feel the drops of sweat racing down his forehead, the beads forming on his upper lip, getting caught in the rough stubble there. His heart rate was erratic against his fractured ribs making every breath he drew excrutiating. He watched her legs tremble as she made her way to stand in front of him. Her hands clasped his raw wrists with a gentleness that would soothe anyone. _Anyone that wasn't me._

"Booth, you should sit. You're complexion is very pale. How much Morphine did you use?"

"I…I don't know…Just let it drip. Fast for…Fast for a minute or so. The line was completely open."

"Christ Booth…Thankfully it doesn't look like an overdose but…You allowed yourself too much and your body isn't coping."

 _That's not it. You have no idea. You'll never have an idea. You're too dull and thick headed. You'll never understand. It's not the Morphine._ No, it was far from the Morphine. It was the way she had broke down in front of him back in the hospital room, the way she had exhaled his name on such a shaky breath you'd think she was the one on the brink of death. It was in the way she had touched him, examined him, sat next to him. Everything she was doing to him now, her thumb gliding over his knuckles that were still stained with blood, how her right hand was unraveling the gauze at his torso to prepare for cleaning and changing. Her sharp intake of breath at the sight of his wounds. He could only watch her, taking in gulps of air at a time to slow himself. He was reacting when he shouldn't be. His mind was full of hatred and resentment but his body full of sickened lust. Every rational part of him screamed to push her away, make her stop touching him and caring for him. But his nerves and his skin, his hands and lips; they wanted to pull her closer. Suffocate her without abandon in love. Lust and desire clawed at him screaming to be let out. But he held fast, letting her work silently until her palms flattened against his chest and he gripped her wrists with such force that he flinched himself.

"What are you doing?"

She sounded startled and unsure.

"Please. Stop. Stop touching me."

She didn't understand his words or what they meant; her brow furrowing and her eyes rolling back. She yanked her wrists from his hands and sat back on her heels creating an image for his body to react to.

"I don't understand Booth. You agreed to allow me to take care of you. Your wounds need to be cleaned and re-bandaged and you need fluids."

"I can do it myself. Please, just…Just don't touch me anymore."

"Why not? I need to help you. You can't reach your back. It's not possible."

"That's…Fuck you don't get it Bones. You will never get it."

Pushing down on the plush temper-pedic mattress he did his best to climb to his feet. The failed button-fly of his jeans making his arousal more prominent and out of the corner of his eye he watched hers widen and her hand cover her mouth. He covered himself and moved to the bathroom where he took a soft cloth from a bowl of water that she had prepared and began dabbing at his wounds. The pain searing and the cords in his neck distending in response, he reached blindly until he found a towel and placed it in his mouth before beginning to scrape off the dried blood. When his chest was finished he was exhausted. Exhausted as if he'd run miles without stopping, uphill. It took every ounce of energy he had left to stay level on his feet but his head was beginning to swim so he braced himself on sore arms and let his head fall between his shoulders heaving out what little air he could manage. He hadn't known how long he'd leaned against her vanity like that, just that the bowl of red water was beginning to blur. Then the hair on the back of his neck rose and his entire body stiffened with the presence of someone else. Keeping his head bent he drew in a sharp breath and flexed his arms. Begging silently for her to just leave him alone. But she touched his shoulders with cold fingertips and he was pulled back into that comforting corner he was in when he was rescued.

"Booth, let me help you. Please. I'm not ashamed of you, and your arousal is normal. I can assure you of that. I understand that it isn't myself causing it and merely the fact that your adrenaline from this evening is simply pent up. Nothing more. It's a lot like the hero complex. I'm sure if I were the paramedic who saved you, it'd be a much more different reaction. Your lust would be uncontrollable. It's normal. I don't want you to be ashamed. Or embarrassed. I just want to help you. As your friend."

"You can't help me."

"What do you mean I can't help you? I am perfectly capable of helping you. You know that."

"No Bones. You're not. You're not allowed to help me just like I'm not allowed to help you. I belong to no one. Not you, not anyone."

"Booth, this is a very different situation."

It took him all of two seconds to spin around and have her flush against her bathroom wall. His equilibrium still tinkered on the edge reminding him with a punishing wave of nausea as he hovered near her.

"No. It's not and you fucking know it. I'm in just as much danger as you were that day. The only difference is they got to me. Not you. You want to fucking know what my problem is Bones? Hmm? My problem is that you're so eager to help me, to take on the role for me; but the minute I do it for you, the minute I save your _fucking life_ you blow a fucking gasket. Whether you like it or not, I'm responsible for you and your safety. Whether it's as your partner or as your friend. I acted as your friend that day and I'd do it over and over and _over again._ Get off your fucking high horse _Dr. Brennan._ I could have let him have you. I could have stood on the sidelines and _let_ him have you. You want to know what his plans were for you? Huh?! Because he told me every fucking thing he'd do to you if it weren't for me. You should be thanking me, not standing on your god damn soap box like the high horsed bitch you are. I saved your fucking life and you had nothing to say for it but a slap to my face. A fucking. Slap. To the. Face."

She was trembling, the plump lower lip of her mouth quivering as if she were about to cry. She hadn't understood until now. Until his anger had seeped into every feature of his body, his eyes glistening with a rage that was unfamiliar to her. A flicker of passion hidden behind and caressing her. He took as deep a breath as he could manage lifting his hand to cup her cheek. His voice was a low whisper when he spoke, his eyes watering with enough emotion for the both of them.

"Do you know what that's like Bones? To protect someone without abandon? I don't know what I'd do with myself if they'd gotten to you. Knowing that I could have stopped it. I know you're independent, that you can take care of yourself. I get it, I do. But sometimes, sometimes you need that other person. Christ Bones, I was just doing what was right. As your friend. You're the only one who disagrees with me. Look at how you came to me; crying and so broken thinking the worst. You can't be the only one that's allowed to feel that way. I will always protect you and I'll let you slap me as many times as you want because I know I did what was right. You needed me that time. I can't apologize for it. It's not being an alpha male, it's just being…A friend."

His eyes had since slipped closed, his tone husky and airy, the words slightly slurred as the exhaustion began to overwhelm him. _I need sleep. I can't stay awake any longer._ His hand fell from her face and he brought his arms up until his forearms rested flush against the wall on either side of her head, his forehead pressing against hers. He was so tired, drained and weak. But he nuzzled her nose with his and took a satisfying breath. Her lavender scent filling him; _life. I'm alive and her smell proves it._ It was almost as if he were in a trance when her tiny hands grasped his forearms and pulled them down, carefully turning him until she was able to lead him into her bedroom where she very carefully and expertly removed the shredded ruined denim and tucked him under the cool sheets. She adjusted the thermostat to 65, hoping to cool him down some more. He was snoring by the time she returned from the kitchen with water and pain tablets for the morning. She sat on the side that he didn't occupy and just stared down at him. What could she think of such an admission? He was raw with emotion and the truth had fatigued him. She hadn't said a word to him; had just made him comfortable and let him drift off. She didn't know what to say so she let her hands wander. Fingertips ghosting over his face, tracing his jawline and then his neck. She flattened her palm over his heart where there was a gash from a serrated knife. It was beating steadily now, not erratic and out of control like before. Her eyes drifted closed and the lump crept up her throat. _He's alive. So very alive._ It was a reassurance she didn't think she needed. A sniffle and her eyes were back open her hand hovering where the comforter rested on his hips. She contemplated lifting it higher, but his wounds were still open and needed to be aired out. Rising from the bed she slipped out of her dirty clothes and prepared herself for bed. A shower, brush of teeth, sleep shorts and a shirt he'd left at her house months ago before they were too damaged to function around each other.

Without a thought, her body curled up into his side. Her cheek resting on his shoulder and her hand on the curve of his hip. It wasn't all that comfortable and her neck would ache when she awoke, but there was no convincing herself that she needed it. He was warm, and his skin was slick with a thin sheet of sweat. But he was peaceful. Sleeping contentedly and safe. _Safe. He was so safe._


	5. Chapter 5

Muscles clenched under sweat slicked skin, eyes squinting through the morning sun. A groan rippled through a tight chest as a battered frame rose up from the mattress. Disoriented and stiff, Booth leaned back against the fabric headboard quickly retracting when the slight pressure reminded him of the wounds that were still fresh and seeping. Rising to his feet, eyes rolling back at the sight of the dried blood and puss that stained her crisp white sheets. _Infection because I didn't shower._ Padding to her master bathroom he slipped inside and stared blankly at himself in the lengthy mirror. The soft refreshing smell of her lavender soap soothed his headache and warmed his skin. Standing there in his black boxer briefs with semi-morning wood that strained against the fabric, he rolled his eyes once more and rummaged through her cabinets for rubbing alcohol and wash rags. The bowl she had made up last night had since been rinsed out so he filled it with warm water and let one of the rags soak while he poured half the bottle of 99.9% rubbing alcohol on the other and let it soak. The bitter stench making his nose wrinkle and he twisted his head in search for the lavender. Wringing the alcohol soaked rag in his right hand he stared at himself in the mirror, top teeth gnawing his bottom lip, he sucked in a breath and raised the rag to his chest.

For a minute there he couldn't fathom a worse pain. Iron flavoring coated his tongue as his teeth grinded against his bottom lip. His ears burned at the sound of the scabs ripping from his skin, fresh blood leaking between the red skin. Throwing the red stained rag into the sink harder than he intended a curse word slipping on his breath. Leaning forward on his hands, biceps flexing and shaking. _I'm still exhausted._ Grabbing the warm wash cloth from the bowl he dabbed it tenderly along the edges of the newly aggravated flesh. It was soothing in a way that the cool hands from yesterday had soothed him on the hard sidewalk. He tried to think back, tried to remember the face that matched the cool hands. Her voice had been just as smooth in his ear, soft and sweet. A smile graced his lips at the thought. _Wonder if I could find her. Thank her. Yeah, thank her._ Finishing up wiping the old and the new blood away, he rummaged some more for fresh gauze and began the tedious task of folding it and taping it precisely over each gash. Some of them mad ehim shiver and flinch just staring at them; making him wonder just how deep they were and why some had stitches and some didn't. But he knew the answers to those wonders and it made him cringe. So he shook his head of the thoughts and washed his hands before slipping back into her bedroom. As he made the bed his hand subconsciously felt the mattress finding one side warm and the other cold. He could have swore she had slept next to him, concluding that that was why nightmares didn't haunt him. But it was as cold as ice and the apartment was quiet. He shrugged carefully to himself as he pulled the comforter up and folded the top half neatly, fluffing the pillows and setting them in an organized pattern along the headboard not returning to the thoughts.

He looked around for his jeans and figured she must have tossed them into the trash since they were beyond saving; he maneuvered down the hall and into the living area the aroma of coffee filling his nostrils making his eyes roll back. _Maybe I'm not alone after all._ Closing the distance into the kitchen he poured himself a cup with a shaking hand and took his first sip. The comfort of the hot black liquid was short lived as it dropped to the floor with a shatter at the sound of a feminine voice hit his ears.

"Good morning."

With a quick spin his hands dropped to the front of his briefs in a half assed attempt to cover the erection he was still sporting; silently cursing himself wishing he was in his own apartment so he could climb in the shower and relieve himself the way he always did. _Routine. That's what that was called. I have none for God knows how long now._

"Mornin' Bones. Sleep okay? I was uh just getting some coffee. I'll clean that up. I oculdn't find my uhm…My pants. Did you throw them away?"

She fidgeted like his stumbling for words bothered her and maybe it did but he ignored the thought and his body tensed as her eyes raked over him hungrily. The flicker of what he assumed was lust disappeared quickly from her eyes as they met his and she forced a smile to her lips.

"No, it's okay. I'll clean it up; if you continue to irritate those wounds they'll never heal. Yes, I did disgard your jeans into the trash because there was no getting…"

The stop short made them both uncomfortable.

"It's fine Bones. You don't have to skirt around it."

"Yeah…Sorry, I just. Anyway, I went to your apartment once you fell asleep and brought you back some clothes. I set them in the second drawer of my dresser. I was hoping you'd just find them yourself."

"I'm sorry but…I would feel disrespectful going through your drawers. Don't want to know what I might find."

His chuckle was half hearted its intent to only diffuse the awkwardness.

"I uhm…With that being said, I should probably just climb in the shower and get into something more…Appropriate."

Hanging his head and stepping carefully over the broken ceramic, he brushed by her and skulked back into her bedroom, moving to shut the door and deciding to just leave it open a crack. His fingers pulled the oak drawer open his eyes finding the well worn Flyers shirt and his second favorite pair of his jeans. A soft knowing smile flitted to his lips and he pulled the clothes out slipping into them slowly.

"Booth? Are you decent?"

"Uh, yeah. Yeah Bones, I'm good. Come in."

"I brought you a new cup of coffee. How are you feeling?"

"Thanks. And I'm uh, fine. Thanks for asking. Listen Bones, I wanted to tell you that I uh…I owe you a new pair of sheets. It seems I…Look I'm really sorry. I'll get you some new ones while I'm out."

"While you're out? Booth, you are in no condition to be going out! Your back is hardly healed and your knee! What about your knee? You're still limping! You promised."

"Bones, you can't expect me to stay cooped up all day. I'm fine. My knee, is fine. The X-rays came back clear. Nothing broken."

"yes, but your MRI showed significant bruising and a tear in the meniscus. That's serious Booth. You need to stay off it. For at least, 3 weeks."

"Oh come on! Where'd you pull that number from? I don't need to stay off it. I have some things to do, and I intend to get them done. I'll only be gone a couple hours, then I'll come right back and you can tie me to the couch, prop my legs up and feed me tea and soup all you fucking want."

"What do you have to do that is so important? More important than you healing?"

"I need to pay some thanks to some people."

"I could do that for you. Give me their names and I'll find them and I'll send them a card for you."

"No Bones. That's hardly appropriate. She saved my life. All right? I'll be right back."

He handed the mug to her and limped his way out of her bedroom and looked around the front door for his boots. A quick assessment to think over how to put them on with as less pain as possible. Deciding no better way than to just bite through it, he leaned over his vision blurring as the familiar feeling of skin pulling apart surged through him. He felt every inch of each gash pull open.

"Booth, stay. Please."

"I told you I'm fine."

"You're bleeding through your shirt. You pulled the stitches in your back."

"Fuck. Not my favorite shirt."

He pulled at it before slipping it off and flipping it through his hands to examine the fresh stains a curse leaving his lips. Her gasp startled him into looking up and he thought he caught fear in her eyes. He straightened and breathed deep looking down at his chest. He looked like he'd just walked off a horror movie set. Blood oozing down his chest, tanned skin paling.

"Well fuck. Shit, you know what sorry Bones. I just really don't want…Fuck just let me go home. I appreciate the hospitality but I'm just not…I'm not comfortable here. It's a routine thing, you understand. I'll be at my place, you're welcome to stop by. I'll call you once I get home."

He leaned forward and placed a friendly kiss to her cheek and patted her back in a hug that wasn't returned. His skin crawled at her scoff and pulled her door open with a little more force than needed before exiting without another word from the either of them.

 _ **BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBB**_

The OR was buzzing as surgeons moved in a graceful dance through the halls, maneuvering patient filled beds with a finesse that had her dizzy. Nurses brushed by her like she wasn't there, and those that noticed and knew her smiled and waved behind the concerned looks. When the tall, blue-eyed brunette danced her way over she steeled herself for the all too familiar interrogation.

"I don't see a bus in that alley. What did you bring in? Yourself? No, that can't be it, that'd be too easy. You must be looking for that John Doe you dropped last night. The one who looked like he'd been tortured? Are you looking for him?"

"Yes Jill. I am in fact looking for that John Doe. I want to know if he pulled through. Can you tell me that?"

"I could, and I would if I didn't know better. Does Jack know you're here?"

"If he had even an inkling you think I'd be standing in the place?"

"I suppose you're right. C'mon, lets go find some privacy."

The two walked arm in arm until they found a maintence closet to hide away in.

"This is where the scandalous nurses come to fuck the doctors that are married with children huh?"

"You couldn't be closer to the truth."

"So, that John Doe. Did he pull through?"

"Ya know, he's right. Jack, I mean. I know he's told you about how what you're starting to do is wrong. You dropped that John off with the most sad and pissed off look on your face. You think you hide it, but you don't."

"You're just saying what I don't want to hear."

"That's my job. Did you think you'd be able to fire me?"

"Of course not I just…You know, it's taken five years Jill. Five years and I've never slipped like this. Why now?"

"Maybe it's personal."

"Oh, don't even. That has nothing to do with it. And you know it."

"Do I? Hannah, you saw something that you have personal experience with. Come on, you can't fool me. I've seen the scars. I've held you against me while you cried with red wine on your breath and sobbed the stories out. It has everything to do with it. Your injuries are _identical_ to his. And you have the _nerve_ to say that has nothing to do with why you're here searching for him like an owner who lost its dog? Please. Save your breath."

"I hate how you do that. I didn't give you that information so you could use it against me when it was convenient."

"I'm not using it against you. That would mean that I was throwing it in your face in an attempt to belittle you. This is not the case. I'm reminding you why you're here. But, to appease you. He's not here. He checked himself out in a Morphine haze last night just after what I assume was his girlfriend paid him a visit. He didn't even leave his name because when the chare nurse refused the discharge papers on the account of his best interest, he simply walked out. And no, a report was not filed and no BOLO was issued because he wasn't a danger to himself or others. We let him go. Where security cameras caught him getting into a vehicle with the girl that visited him just before he left. So, pull yourself together and wipe that god damn incredulous look off your face and go back to the station. Get back in your uniform, put your bus in service and go save lives."

"Are you done?"

"Yes, I'm done."

"Good."

That was it between the old friends and Hannah was storming out, slamming the door of her car before releasing her fist on her dash and steering wheel. Her throat burning as hse screamed with frustration. Jill was right, they were a match of wounds and she knew what it was like to heal alone. _To be chained like an animal for their pleasure._ She wanted to check on him, make sure he was okay and didn't need a shoulder, but Jill had wiped that up like spilt milk on hardwood floor. Crushing any hope of finding the man who was just as torn as she was. She jumped when knuckles rapped on her window. Her heart racing in her chest, a shiver running down her spine as familiar brown eyes ran over her expectantly.


	6. Chapter 6

It took less than half a second for the steel door to wrench open and for Hannah to jump out, her arms wrapping around his neck almost too aggressively. His chuckle rumbled through his chest with a wince snaking it's way out when she squeezed too tight. She was whispering things next to his ear, things he didn't necessarily hear all the way through, and things he connected with on a certain level. With as much effort as he was able to muster, he placed his hands at her waist and carefully pulled her from his body to hold her at arms length. They stared at each other, her expression one of awe and thankfulness. He smiled at her and looked down self consciously.

"Holy shit, you're alive. You're moving. I can't believe this…There really is a God."

"I'm not entirely sure what you mean by that, but I can understand it to a point. I am barely moving though. Still in quite a bit of pain."

"I can imagine. The charge nurse said you discharged yourself last night. Whoever picked you up was out of her damn mind. I would have tied you to the bed."

Her remark had not intended to be sexual, but his foggy brain and the way she was staring at him had his skin heating and his jeans becoming uncomfortable.

"I honestly didn't think you'd recognize me…"

"Your injuries were quite unique and significant. I was just, checking in on you to make sure you know, you made it."

"Do you do that with all your patients?"

"Not usually. The kids of course I always check in on them, sometimes bring them a stuffed animal or some candy to help them become more comfortable and not be so scared. But adults, it's rare."

"So I'm special."

"I wouldn't push it that far. I have seen your type of wounds before and those people didn't make it. I wanted to see if you did. Maybe I could have gotten you to talk to someone about them."

"So, like I'm a evidence?"

"Kind of. I don't mean to sound insensitive. Quite the opposite actually. I really did want to make sure you're okay. What about you? Why are you back here?"

"I'd be lying if it was to say to check myself back in. I came looking for whoever scraped me up off the concrete so I could thank them. It's the least I could do. Which was pretty difficult considering all I remembered was blonde hair and a sweet sounding voice. "

"You assume it's me?"

"You're doctor friend pointed me in your direction. The charge nurse also helped a little bit. So, thank you."

"You don't need to thank me. I was just doing my job."

"Yeah well, you went a little beyond your job. I've been in the back of a bus before, the medics don't ever talk to you and when they do it's to try and get your name. You actually talked to me, helping me stay coherent. That was really great, and one of the reasons I feel like I pulled through. So, yes I do owe you a thank you."

"Well, you're welcome then. I'm glad to hear that it helped you. IT's a relief to see that you're still alive."

"I agree with you. Well, I'd better let you go. You have a very good day, save some more lives."

"I will. Thank you. Maybe we should uh, I don't get drinks later?"

"Maybe. I'll let you know."

"How?"

"Well, I could just come around here and ask for you. Seems to have worked so far."

"Okay. What's your name?"

"Seeley Booth. But you can call me Booth if you'd like. And your name?"

"Hannah."

His eyes were a stunning brown, sparkling in a way that she could almost see herself in them. His lips were upturned just slightly nearly masking the still swollen corner of his bottom lip. His voice was smooth other than the slight gravely-ness she assumed was from a lack of water. Her eyes lingered on his face before darting to the forming dots on his shirt.

"Shit! You're bleeding!"

The urge to reach out and pull his shirt was nearly overwhelming and took a surprising amount of control to not give in. Instead, she grasped his arm and pulled him to the back o the ambulance where she flung open the otherwise heavy doors and pulled him down to sit on the bumper.

"It's just a little blood. Nothing serious. I'm sure it'll stop in a few seconds."

"Have you never had stitches before? Those won't stop until the stitches are re-sewn. How long have they been torn? Oh my God, did I do that when I hugged you?"

"No, no. I did it while I was at my partners home. I think I was pulling on my boots."

"Your partner?"

Her tone was more skeptical than she intended and the wince that followed was only a punishment.

"Yeah, been together for almost six years now."

"Wow. That's a long time. Which one doesn't want to get married?"

"Excuse me?"

"Well I mean, if I was with someone for six years I'd be looking in everysock drawer for a ring and wondering why I couldn't find it."

"No, no you got it wrong. I'm sorry, let me clarify. We work together. She's an anthropologist and I'm an FBI agent. We're strictly work partners. No, Bones and I we'd never…No. Never."

"Oh. I'm really sorry. I didn't intend to sound so…assuming. My apologies. The nurses say a woman picked you up. Was that your wife?"

"That was Bones. I'm not married. I'm single. At the moment."

The wink he shot her had heat forming in her cheeks and she turned to look away nearly dropping the supply bag she was struggling to get open. His chuckle ran through her ears and down her spine making her shiver and she didher best to focus on her task when the warmth of his hand touched hers and radiated through her entire body.

"Let me help you. Or should I just go on inside and get help from the doc?"

"Well, I can't sew, so maybe I should escort you in to see her. I don't know what I was thinking. None of this is going to help you."

"It's all right. You were just trying to help. There's nothing wrong with that. Thank you, by the way."

"You've already said thank you. Stop, please. This is my job, I love it very much."

"I can tell. Although, I did notice you walk with quite the limp on your left knee. Does it affect your work or is it just something new?"

The nightmare was quick, but it was there nonetheless and her fingers itched to rub the old injury out of habit. But the fingers curled until the nails bit into her palm and the images fled.

"No. No it's not something new. And no, it doesn't affect my work."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry or sound so…"

"Observant? No, it's fine. Just a sore subject?"

"Let me guess, you probably had a full ride scholarship for some sport, maybe softball? And you slid into home plate and tore the ACL? Or maybe you were running and turned wrong and tore the MCL?"

"Something like that. Come on, lets get you inside. I'm sure Jill will help you out. She's a great sewer and quick too."

"All right."

Hannah led him back into the hospital, her hand grasping his bicep firmly, her leg shaking as she tried to walk without the limp. When the charge nurse met her eyes there was a quick glare passed over and a mouthing for Jill in room four. When Booth sat on the bed he winced, his own knee irritating him. But his fingers didn't refrain from massaging the soreness away. She watched him from the doorway as his handsome features winced and frowned with discomfort. For a second, she considered telling him, for a second her mouth opened and Jill's voice was heard. Her own heart thumping wildly at the thrill of what she was just about to reveal to a complete stranger. A stranger bound to her by the same trauma.


End file.
